Monthly Archives: February 2016

It is with a heavy heart that I posthumously honor fellow Louisiana author and friend, Richard Wilkins. Richard wrote two books out of the planned Wizards of Lake Bistineau trilogy, an eclectic book of poetry, the 2014 Colbert Family Reunion Album, and a candid view of societal and sociological enigmas and anomalies entitled, That’s Why I Hate Them. Below is a link to his Amazon author page if you feel you would like to peek inside this wonderfully creative mind. The first two installments of the trilogy are also featured on my guest author page, on which Richard has earned a permanent place. Richard was a kind-hearted and talented Air Force veteran with a knack for spinning a yarn and I thoroughly enjoyed reading his work.

Richard has passed into the realm where his rich and vivid characters can live alongside him and keep him company until his family can meet him. I picture him sitting on a bench in an ethereal garden with his feet propped up, looking over his glasses at the neighbor and shaking his head, gathering material for That’s Why I Hate Them 2, and waiting for his wife to join him.

Like this:

Jamie steps into the bright new day and finds his world changed. Eyeless corpses litter the city streets, filling him with dread and many questions. Is he the last living person on earth? What happened to everybody? What happened to their eyes? He eventually finds them, all of them. The end is in sight. This purchase also includes the bonus story, Transmogrification.

Like this:

We mourn the passing of a wonderful and comforting entity in our lives, KIA on January 8, 2016. Eileen was approximately 140 years old and earned her name from her severe lean over one of our decks. Yes, the name is corny, but her presence is sorely missed and has forever changed the atmosphere and character of Fiddler’s Green. Where once she sheltered the decks and provided shade for the side of the house, there is openness and emptiness, a void left in the wake of the terminal sickness that rotted her roots to the point she could no longer bear her own weight causing her to collapse, exhausted and spent. Her duties as a sentinel, protector, and abode for wildlife of all species are now complete, but her memory will live on in electronic celluloid, the essence of her spirit captured so inadequately by the camera’s eye. Alas, those who witnessed her glory and majesty have only their memories to pay homage to this great old oak tree. Rest in peace, Eileen, you are hereby relieved of your duties and inducted into the annals of the Fiddler’s Green historical record. You are not forgotten and the void created by your absence will never fully be filled, at least not in our lifetime. P.S. Thank you for not destroying the house 🙂